


A Fateful Bet

by PapayaPanic



Category: Mewgulf, TharnType the Series (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Baseball, Gambling, M/M, MewGulf - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:34:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23418331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PapayaPanic/pseuds/PapayaPanic
Summary: Mew discovers a way to predict the winning teams of baseball games and gets caught up in the world of sports betting.
Relationships: Mew Suppasit Jongcheveevat/Gulf Kanawut Traipipattanapong
Kudos: 69
Collections: ABChallenge1





	A Fateful Bet

**Author's Note:**

> This work is part of a challenge by myself and MadReisz
> 
> Topics: Baseball, sports spectating, or sports bar  
> Type: One Shot  
> Length: Open  
> Pairing: MewGulf  
> Submission Date 3/31/2020
> 
> Voting on Twitter - Link to be updated soon!

“Shia!”

Mew was fucked. As soon as the game hit the Seventh Inning Stretch, he knew it was over. He shifted uncomfortably in the stadium seat, watching the crowd laughing and enjoying their break. He sighed. He used to enjoy baseball too.

It was all Run’s fault really. A few months ago, after one too many (okay, five too many) drinks and a lot of complaints about being in debt from school, Run had an asinine idea. If Mew used the knowledge he’d gained from all his schooling, he could create a strategy for predicting baseball game outcomes. Then, all he had to do was place a few bets, and his debt would be erased. Drunk Run was talking nonsense, of course, but he said the three words that he knew Mew couldn’t refuse.

“Alright, Mew. I dare you.”

Mew hated his competitive nature more than ever, cursing his inability to back down from a direct challenge. He was too stubborn, too confident, too proud. And because of it, he sat in general admission, watching his future plans dissolve at each swing of a bat. He knew he shouldn’t have made this last bet. Though the previous two bets were also supposed to be “the last bet” as well. Panicked, Mew got up from his seat and haphazardly stumbled up the stairs. Maybe he could leave before the final two innings. He could take a long vacation, give the boss time to calm down. Besides, he thought, it’s not like I’m screwing them out of more money if I don’t actually try to collect it. Right?

He rushed toward the gate, glancing back to make sure no one was following or watching too closely (enforcers could be anywhere)...and ran headlong into a wall.

No, not a wall. 

Mew’s head turned, eyes slowly drifting up from the charcoal blazer he had just just crashed into and met the dark stare of the most handsome man that he had ever seen. Full, rose pink lips, smooth black hair in an undercut style, and dark mocha eyes that bore straight to his soul.

He hurriedly glanced once more over his shoulder, then back down to the blazer, realizing that he was still holding the waist of the “wall” since their collision. “Oh”, he breathed, removing his hands. 

Mew gulped and offered a wai. “Sorry khrab. I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

The piercing glare hesitated for a second, as if debating attack or retort, then broke into a wide, inviting smile, returning the gesture. “That’s alright. Really.” He only spoke one sentence, but Mew’s agitation slightly calmed, a sliver of peace radiating from the stranger’s voice. Mew apologized once more, then tried to take his leave, only to be stopped, a soft hand enveloping his wrist. Mew turned, his eyes locking onto those of the gorgeous stranger.

“Hey. Are you leaving the game early?” The man asked with a soft, melodic voice. “Me too. The game’s practically won anyway.” He paused for a moment, as if calculating what to say next. “So,” he faltered, “Would you like to grab a drink with me, or maybe some food? The stuff here is garbage.”

“I – Eat…Wait. What?” Mew sputtered, his worries vanishing at the directness of the man’s request

“Yes, eat. I’m starving. Come on.” The man then grabbed Mew’s wrist once again and moved, hauling him toward the gate at a happy lope. 

“Oh! By the way,” he added, “I’m Gulf.”

* * * * * *

Twenty minutes later, Mew found himself at a noodle shop with this gorgeous stranger, one in an impeccable blazer and chinos and the other in a t-shirt, grungy jeans and ballcap. It was definitely a peculiar pair. As they sat and ate, working their way through giant bowls of Tom Yum, Mew couldn’t help but stare. Gulf, as he had introduced himself, exuded an air of wealth and comfort, and Mew reluctantly looked at his own disheveled appearance in embarrassment.

“So, did your team win?”

Mew started and quickly focused on his dinner, still surprised that this man was talking to him and not someone else.

“Um, yeah they did.” Mew nervously admitted, shifting in his seat.

“Isn’t that a good thing?” Gulf chuckled at Mew’s reaction.

“Oh. Yeah, I guess it is.” Mew agreed, though the implications of that win still lingered in the back of his mind. “Wow. this Tom Yum is excellent!” He blurted, hoping to change the topic.

Gulf softly smiled, amused at the unexpected comment. “Yes, it’s my favorite here.” 

They continued chatting and eating, nervous energy falling away into comfortable smiles and easy laughter. Mew couldn’t believe how quickly he had come to like this stranger. As Gulf talked, Mew learned that his father was a businessman, hence the wealth, and Gulf grew up watching sports and following baseball, same as him. They came from completely different backgrounds: high class and working class, but they both gravitated toward each other in a way that didn’t seem possible for a first encounter. Mew had not had this kind of immediate connection before, but spending time with Gulf seemed to come easy, like breathing.

After they ate, Gulf paid for dinner (he insisted), then turned to Mew, “Where do you live? I’ll send you home.” 

“No, that’s alright. I can find my own way.” Mew didn’t want to impose on the stranger any more than he already had.

“Please. It’s the least I can do after dragging you to dinner.”

He led Mew over to an expensive SUV, and opened the door to the back seat. Mew stepped up into the car, only to find Gulf getting in on his opposite. 

“Don’t worry. I’ve already told Mild where to go. He’ll get us there.”

“Mild?”

“My driver”, Gulf points as a shorter man in a suit climbs into the driver’s seat, using the push-to-start and revving the engine. “Perks of a wealthy father I guess.” 

They sat and chatted about different things, bringing Mild in when the conversation was interesting to him. Mew really liked this driver. He was funny, always providing the comedic relief when the situation called for it, and he also loved baseball, so they had a lot to talk about. However, he liked the other passenger even more. This man, who appeared out of nowhere, already had a hold on Mew. He hung on to every word Gulf said and had a feeling that, no matter how little he knew him, he would trust him with his life. 

As Mew deliberated these new revelations, he finally glanced out the window only to see unfamiliar streets. This was not the way to his condo. Where were they? 

“Um, Mild, this is not the way. I think you took a wrong turn.”

“No, Mew,” Gulf sighed with a hint of...what was that? Sadness? “Mild is going the right way. And I’m really sorry for this.” 

Mew looked over at the handsome man just in time to see a large fist rushing toward his face. 

All went dark.

* * * * * *

Mew woke with a groan, the smelling salts held by the enforcer stinging his now broken nose. He slowly opened his eyes and took in his surroundings: a dingy warehouse with one working light directly overhead. He could feel the zip ties cutting into his wrists behind his back, and sighed heavily, defeated. Mew felt betrayed. His newly-discovered angel was no more than a pawn, sent to ease him into complacency, then bring him to the man he wanted most to avoid. Mew heard the bang of a metal door, and out of the shadows, the boss stepped forth: Naai Chakrii. 

“Sawadee, Mew. You have caused quite the trouble with us these past few months. You’ve managed to earn more from your games than most of my clientele, which definitely has me curious.” He leaned into Mew’s ear, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. “How are you doing it? Sports betting is definitely no guarantee; players are so...untrustworthy. But you are winning even more than the others, so you must know something.”

He lingered for a few seconds, awaiting reply, then stepped back, looking Mew up and down, searching for the answer, but knowing that his prey would not provide one.

“No matter. Tell me or don’t. It’s your decision. You won’t be making any more bets anyway, thanks to Gulf.”

Chakrii raised his hand, and Mew’s handsome stranger walked into the light, still as impeccably dressed and beautiful as ever, his smile from dinner replaced by a cold glare. 

“Anything to help the company, Pho.”

Mew’s face morphed from despair and betrayal to shock. Pho? His father?! Of course! Gulf mentioned at dinner that his father was a wealthy businessman, thought Mew. He just conveniently left out what kind of business his father worked in. He wasn’t just a pawn then, but the boss's beloved son. 

“I admit. I was worried when you volunteered to help.” Chakrii paced, watching his son’s blank expression, “You have never had an interest in the business before. But I guess you’re finally stepping into your place in this family.”

“Of course, Pho,” Gulf pridefully countered. “I need to learn the ways if I am to inherit the business one day, correct?”

Chakrii smirked. “Yes. But one step at a time. First, let’s deal with the matter at hand, then we will discuss the future.”

Mew was cheated. He knew that he had just met Gulf, that they knew almost nothing of each other, but he also felt that they shared a connection. He had trusted Gulf, and felt like he still wanted to, but he was completely misled. He sank further into the rotted chair. There was nowhere to go, and nothing to do to change his fate. All he could do now was accept what was coming, and hope that the next life could be a little kinder. 

Chakrii called for enforcers to take Mew away, and Gulf stepped forward first, in front of his father. “Pho. Allow me to see this through.” And at his father’s skeptical glance, he added, “Mild already knows where to go, and trust me, he won’t be found”, Gulf promised. 

Chakrii frowned, deliberating. “Are you sure you want to take this on?”

Gulf assured his father, “Pho. You have had me training for this since I was very young. Let me prove myself. I can handle this.”

Chakrii hesitated, but relented. He snapped his fingers, and enforcers came to blindfold Mew, making sure that if anything happened, their captive would not be able to find his way back.

Mew breathed heavily, panic rising in his chest. He was grabbed and pulled, forcefully guided back to the SUV, he assumed. He could hear an engine, and a door opening, then he was shoved face first into the leather seat. He screamed, his broken nose taking the force of the fall, sending pain shooting through his body and tears streaming down his face. In his compromised state, wrists still zip tied and his eyes blindfolded, Mew tried his best to sit up and ease his weight off his nose. He shifted and jostled, working his way up to a sitting position. He sighed, praying for his pain to lessen, and felt a presence join him in the back seat. Gulf. Sitting next to him, just as he had after dinner. After the game. 

Mew cursed himself yet again for his stubbornness, pride, and stupidity. His stubbornness caused him to accept Run’s challenge. His pride caused him to keep betting, hoping to climb out of poverty and debt and into a higher status. But worst of all, his stupidity caused him to fall for this handsome man’s game. He trusted him too easily, was swayed by his looks, his easy going manner, his willingness to open up. But it was all a lie, and it caused Mew’s downfall.

The car shifted into Drive, and Mew was jostled once more as they made their way along battered streets. Mew counted turns, hoping to have something to distract him from his inevitable fate that was growing near. But at around turn twelve, Mew lost count as Gulf breathed, 

“Alright, Mild. You know what to do.” 

* * * * * *

Mew could feel the car gaining speed. Mild began to make turn after turn, drifting and fishtailing, throwing Mew back and forth across the seat. 

“Alai wa…?” His question was cut off by a large hand pressed against his lips, preventing sound from escaping. Frustrated, he growled, and the hand pressed harder, followed by another hand enveloping his waist, preventing him from being hurt too much with the movement. Confusion bubbled up. If Mew was dead anyway, why would Gulf prevent his pain? And why did he need him quiet? 

The SUV sped and swerved along, making Mew dizzy, but still Gulf held him steady. After what seemed like half an hour of going in circles (Were they driving in circles?), the car screeched to a stop. Gulf hooked his arm around Mew’s elbow, guided him out of the SUV, and, after only a few steps, into a smaller, older car, Mew assumed by the stale air inside. The others climbed into the front and back seats respectively, and the new car began to rattle along at a leisurely pace. 

Mew sat, trying to decipher his current situation, when he felt wire cutters at his wrists. One snap, and his hands were free. Holding his aching and cut up wrists, he tested his movement. Mew then reached toward his blindfold, and removed it slowly. The car was an old, tan station wagon. Definitely not the style of a wealthy loan shark’s son. He glanced over at his captor, who was watching him with a face full of worry. 

“Sorry na khrab. I know the trip has been rough, but my father had bugged the SUV. We had to lose the tail and get our backup car. Here, put these on.” He handed Mew some clothes from a bag in the back, and also got out some street clothes for himself. Gulf began to undress, removing blazer and button-up, revealing muscular arms in a white, sleeveless tank. Mew paused, watching the man change into jeans and a grey t-shirt. He couldn’t help but admire everything about him: his arms, his legs, the way he moved. Everything was mesmerizing. His eyes followed Gulf’s lines throughout the process, all the way up to his eyes, which returned the stare with a shy smile.

“Your turn.” 

Mew hesitated. He had never been shy about his body. Actually, he prided himself on how well he looked naked, but for the first time, he was nervous. Gulf made him nervous. What if he didn’t like what he saw? He slowly changed, removing his now-grungy baseball clothes and sliding into some new jeans and a plaid button-up. He could feel Gulf’s stare, but tried to avoid eye contact with him. He preferred not to see the handsome man’s reaction, should it be one to break both Mew’s heart and spirit. 

“Listen.” Gulf’s voice broke through Mew’s worries. “We have quite a drive, so I would like to tell you a story, and I hope that when it’s over, you don’t hate me.”

Mew tilted his head, wondering, What story would ever make me hate you?

Gulf took a deep breath, as if gathering his courage, and began. He told the story of growing up in the shadow of a rich, hateful father, how he never felt that he belonged in his father’s world, and how he always longed to escape. He explained that he was never allowed to talk of his family or have friends become close, or he and his father would be at risk of attack. In grade school, Gulf found sports, baseball in particular. For him, baseball was his way to feel connected to others. He would go to games, pretending to be there with friends, with family, enjoying the atmosphere of the sport and the spectators. Baseball became his outlet, his escape from the clutches of his father, and went to games each season throughout his teen and young adult years. 

“That’s when I first saw you.” 

Gulf had seen Mew only a few rows away one spring game, sitting with a friend (Mew assumed Run or Kaownah), laughing, drinking, and enjoying each pop fly, fast ball, and double play. Immediately Gulf was struck by Mew’s laugh, which sang throughout the stands. It was a full, natural laugh, and Gulf fell in love with the sound as easily as one takes a breath. He described going to every game he could find in hopes of seeing that handsome face, hearing that beautiful laugh once more. Every chance he found, Gulf would watch this lovely man at games, imagining that he was there beside him, causing that wonderful sound, but he never had the courage to approach him. He wasn’t allowed to be himself with the man, so why would he even try? 

And so, this became the norm. Gulf would make his way to the field with Mild, sit, and await his favorite baseball fan in hopes of hearing him laugh. This went on for months, Mew attending games with his friends; Gulf happy to just watch from afar. Until one game a few months ago. Gulf had come the closest he had ever been, just a few people separated him and this charming man with the easy laugh. Except there was no easy laugh. Instead, worry painted the man’s face. He was concentrating on a notebook, scribbling notes with a focused and edgy expression. Gulf became concerned. He had seen this expression before. The face of one betting on the game.

Knowing that his father was responsible for most game bets, Gulf began to get involved in the business, ears open, face to the ground. He had to know about his crush, who kept getting more and more serious each game. Through his father’s men, he discovered that this man’s name was Mew, and that he was actually winning many bets. So much, in fact, that Chakrii began to take notice. Gulf was afraid. Men who gained notice of his father did not make it very far in life. And when Chakrii gave the order to bring Mew in, Gulf knew he had to act. 

“Pho, I’ll bring him.” 

* * * * * *

“I’ve been a coward and a liar, and for that, I’m sorry na khrab.” Gulf concluded with a sigh. 

Mew was speechless. Gulf, this gorgeous blessing of a human being, watched him? For months?! He didn’t know what to say. Only in his dreams could he picture someone like Gulf ever being attracted to him, having feelings for him. He swallowed, and spoke the only words he could think.

“You...like me? ME?” 

Gulf glanced over at Mew, saw his astonished face, and let out an infectious giggle. The unexpected sound broke Mew from his daze, and he too began to laugh. A natural, happy laugh that hadn’t shown up in months. That laugh that earned Gulf’s notice. The two relaxed, letting the stress and tension dissolve through their joy 

After a few minutes, when both had calmed their hearts, Mew’s thoughts shifted back toward reality and asked, “So what now? Your father still wants my head, and we're in a grimy car going nowhere.” 

“Not nowhere.” Gulf assured him. “I’ve set it all up. Mild is driving us to a distant airport out of the reach of my father’s influence, where you will be flown out of the country. Once out of harm’s way you can take time to figure out the rest.”

Mew nodded, knowing that this was his one shot. He didn’t know what would happen in the future, if he would see his family or friends again, or even where he would end up. But he decided that he was sure of one thing. 

“I do have one favor to ask,” Mew responded, his eyes glued to the heavenly gaze opposite. 

“Yes?” 

“Come with me.” 

Gulf smiled. A wide, addicting grin. He leaned forward and gave Mew a soft, sincere kiss, lips both asking and inviting. 

“Mew,” He whispered, grazing his love’s lips with his words, “I’ll follow you anywhere.”


End file.
